Never Knew I Needed
by theschuesters
Summary: Two hearts, alone and miserable... they both just needed a shoulder to cry on. Carl/Holly, implied Wemma.


**Never Knew I Needed**

_A Carl/Holly fic_

_They both just needed a shoulder to cry on._

XxX

It was the night before you left for Cleveland; the night before you left Lima for good.

It was no use staying in that small town anyway, and you reminded yourself that Lima wasn't the perfect place for a substitute teacher like you to settle down. Well at first you thought it was, and you actually thought you had another shot at a normal life, especially ever since you met _him_, but every time you looked into his eyes, you saw it— saw him thinking, wishing, that you were someone else instead. You realized you were only making a fool of yourself. You curse yourself inwardly for allowing your mind to dream up all sorts of wonderful fairytales, pretending you were the princess, while he was the ever-charming, gallant, curly-haired knight who will keep you safe. You asked how in the world you ever fell for a man who would forever be pining over someone else and not you; you asked why _him_, of all the wretched people in the wretched town of Lima, why Will Schuester… and it was all worth questioning because it was wrong.

_Wrong_, because you knew he will never love you as much, and he'd unintentionally never give you all of him, because his heart was subconsciously still attached to the red-haired Pope Lady. _Wrong_, because you knew you'd never be able to love Will as sincerely and as passionately as _she_ loves him. Wrong, because he's too kind for you, while you're wild, impulsive, and all over the place. And yet you managed to smile to yourself despite the pile of thoughts that crowded your mind: _he can't keep up with a hot mess like me anyway_. It was one of those qualities you both loved and hated about yourself— your ability to not take things too seriously.

But then why did it hurt? Why did it make you feel a pang of bitterness and sorrow that was too hard to shrug off? It was hard to understand, and you felt helpless. And that was exactly why you were here tonight. In a bar not far off from the apartment you rented a few weeks back. You figured a few drinks would do it; some beer, a little of those random shots, and you'll be off. Tomorrow, you'll leave like nothing ever happened— like you never shared those sweet, brief moments together; act like you never met him. Screw that promise of visiting again. Maybe you will, maybe you won't.

You stepped inside the dimly-lit bar and every man, even some women, turned to fix their gaze at you. You felt some kind of power over them as they gaped at your skin-tight denims and black leather jacket, and you felt like yourself again, even for a little while. Smirking triumphantly, you strutted off towards the counter and took a seat, asking for a beer. As the young bartender handed you your drink, you winked at him but turned away quickly, not really concerned to what his reaction might be; besides, he wasn't good-looking enough for your taste.

And there, as you turned your head to the side— that's when you saw him. Slouched in his seat and all alone in one corner, you saw Carl Howell. The very man who had asked for your advice; the man who had tried to save his marriage. And failed.

Immediately you thought about his recent annulment, and you felt compelled, somewhat obligated, to approach him. Next thing you knew you were walking over and you sat beside him; it seemed like he didn't care though. He looked up, saw you, and looked down again, staring with tired eyes at his drink. His jet-black hair was disheveled, his shirt crumpled, and you knew that he hadn't ironed it; from the way his face drooped into a frown, and from the dark circles underneath his eyes, you could tell he hasn't gone to work or fixed himself up, though for how long, you couldn't exactly pin it.

"I'm sorry." It was the first thing you thought of, and it accidentally burst from your lips without really meaning to. Carl looked up, glaring at you, and you wanted to retort, snap at how ungrateful he was for your company, but tears suddenly filled his frustrated eyes. His body sagged even lower, his head resting on the table, and you felt his pain pierce you too. It felt like a stab wound directed at the heart, but it startled you; you didn't know you could still feel as strongly for someone the way you felt now, as you watched the newly-annulled man breaking down right in front of your eyes.

"All I ever did w-was love h-her," he sighed with a shaky voice, and the words felt as heavy as stones when they came out of his mouth. Carl drank the rest of his beer and slammed the glass loudly on the table as he gulped.

"Well I guess… it just wasn't… meant to be." It sounded more like a question, the way your voice whispered it; even you didn't seem to believe it.

"Did I d-do something wrong?"

"No, no!" You immediately replied. Somehow you hated seeing this man so lost and alone, and you didn't want to cause him any more pain. "It could be my fault," you added, placing the blame on yourself. "I was the one who asked her about Will—"

"Yeah, and she—hic— basically a-admitted she—hic— still l-loves—hic— him."

"I… I'm sure Emma didn't mean to hurt you," you interjected. "I think you should be thankful, since she was honest to you about it—"

"I just wanted her to love me back."

Then you realized, with another sting in your chest, that you could absolutely relate to what Carl was feeling. _I just wanted him to love me back_, you thought. And achingly, Will's face flashed for a split second on your mind.

"Look, you've just had so much to drink; let's get you out of here." You tug at Carl's shirt until you managed to pull him up and help him out of the bar, into the parking lot, where his red Corvette was distinctly shimmering in the darkness.

The wind blew hard as you drove down the empty road, your blonde locks lashed across your face; turning slightly in your seat, you check on Carl, who was seated in the passenger's side next to you, mumbling incoherently. It seemed to take no time at all, given there was no traffic, and next thing you knew you were nursing Carl on his couch as he cuddled against you, his eyes filled with tears.

"I love you," he muttered. "I love you _Emma_, I love you, I love you…" his hoarse voice trailed away as he buried his wet face into your neck, and all you could do was bite your lip as a tear slid down your cheek.

"Carl—" You wanted to pull away, but he threw his arms around you, pinning you down with his weight. Again, just like with Will, this man was wishing you were someone else—Emma— not you; not _Holly Holliday_.

But it was funny how you didn't seem to hate Carl as much when he whispered someone else's name, not yours; you figured he was drunk anyway, unlike Will who was in a sober state when you caught him thinking of Emma. So you relaxed in his possessive embrace instead and slumped back on the couch, with more tears finding their way out of your eyes.

You were miserable.

You were nearing forty and still single; it would've been okay, but even you knew the reality that you couldn't live the glamorous life of a substitute forever.

You were miserable, but then again… so was Carl Howell.

The wall clock in his living room ticked loudly in the midst of silence and you, seemingly hypnotized by the sound of it, slowly drifted off into a weary sleep. Nothing bothered you that night; you even woke up the next day feeling slightly refreshed… until you realized Carl was beside you, both your bodies crammed into his sofa, not wanting to fall off.

Silently and carefully you shifted in your position, wanting to sit up, but your slight movement alarmed him and he softly laid his hand on your shoulder, easing you back down.

"Holly." Carl's voice was whole and clear now, compared to how awfully wretched it sounded last night. You realized he must've woken up before you, because he wasn't as drowsy as you were, and the fact that he'd called you by _your_ name—

"E-excuse me?" There was shock in your voice; for a moment you wondered whether you'd just imagined this whole thing up.

"Holly," he repeated himself, and he actually sat up and faced you, smiling softly, though he still looked undoubtedly lonely. "I just… I want to thank you," said Carl. "For staying with me last night."

It was a simple sentence, but you felt how sincere he was with every word he uttered. He took your hand, squeezed it, and your insides tingled; his voice was still ringing in your head from when he'd said your name. That simple gesture made you feel just a little bit better, and you were grateful as well that you stayed the night.

"Thanks too, Carl."

"For what?"

"For calling me by my name."

He laughed, clearly unaware of the way he had acted towards you the night before. "Why?"

"Never mind," you replied, withdrawing your hand from his. "Just… thanks."

"Ah, alright then," he chuckled, still oblivious to what you were thinking.

Then there you were minutes later, just having stepped out of his condo unit, smiling; impulse strikes you again and you mutter to yourself, "Maybe I won't leave Lima after all." You nodded knowingly to yourself, and turning back, proceeded to return to knock on Carl's door.

XxX

**A/N:** Well, since I seem to be the only one who ships them… anyway, I really just wanted to see more Carl/Holly interactions, and this friendship is the beginning of more moments between them.


End file.
